


Madhouse

by Useful_Oxymoron



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, BAMF Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Drug Abuse, F/F, Fear, Healing, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Modern Era, Romance, Smut, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useful_Oxymoron/pseuds/Useful_Oxymoron
Summary: Bellatrix Black, a former model with severe anger management issues and mental instabilities, has been living at the Azkaban Psychiatric Recovery Center for many years. She had found herself being quite at home at this private clinic. Until one day a girl with severe issues of her own arrives at her ward who will turn her world completely upside down.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 27
Kudos: 237





	Madhouse

White.  
  
White walls. White clothes. White beds. White paintings. White everything.  
  
That was really the only thing Bellatrix Black didn't like about Azkaban Psychiatric Recovery Centre as she sauntered through the halls. She'd been a resident here for quite some time now, long enough to feel part of the furniture, honestly.  
  
Things could be worse. Azkaban was a mental ward for the rich and famous and thankfully less of a hellhole than any state funded mental wards for the less fortunate. As a millionairess, this was the place to be for her. There was a lot of comfort, a lot of peaceful greens surrounding the luxurious building and she didn't have to share her room with anyone.  
  
It wasn't as if she was forced to be here: her check in had been voluntarily and she could leave whenever she wanted. She just didn't want to.  
  
Bellatrix had tried the whole recovery thing. Multiple times. And every time, the result was the same. She'd go to her therapy sessions, find inner piece, get a clean bill of health, try to go back to build a life outside... a house, a relationship, whatever... then something would happen, she'd fly into a psychotic rage and end up right where she'd started.  
  
So she just checked in for one last time and never left again.  
  
She'd sown her wild oats in her younger years. Did her little run on the catwalk during her modelling days in her twenties. Hell, maybe all that nose-candy she'd done back in the day was to blame for her psychotic rages which happened ever so often.  
  
Life at Azkaban wasn't so bad. Food was good, beds were comfortable, the library was always fully stocked and she could smoke whenever she wanted. The group sessions were a bit annoying, but otherwise she was doing just fine. Her sisters often visited, so she had her sense of family. What else would she ever need?  
  
It was then that one of the other regulars stepped in front of her. “I'm invisible!” shouted a blond haired man as he danced in front of her, waving wildy and making faces at her. Bellatrix sighed inwardly: she'd known Gilderoy long enough to know about his errant fantasies. The past week he'd been an alien, Prime Minister, Dr. Who and Darth Vader, in that order. Apparently, he was now the invisible man.  
  
Bellatrix allowed a small grin and pushed forward, shoving the 'invisible' Gilderoy straight into the ground.  
  
“Oh!” Bellatrix pretended to be shocked. “I'm so sorry! Whoever I bumped into just now, I completely didn't mean to smash you straight into the ground.”  
  
“Right!” said Gilderoy proudly after picking himself up. “Because I'm invisible!”  
  
Bellatrix ran a hand through her dark mane, sighing heavily as she pretended she never saw the man and continued on to her destination, this being the booth near the front entrance of the centre, where the real world and the tranquil of the mental ward were separated by a sliding door made from the thickest of safety glass.  
  
As expected, the orderly in charge was a tall, thickset man clad in all white. Rodolphus had been here longer than she had. Seeing that the two of them shared a somewhat cynical outlook on life, they had struck up a friendship and often chatted.  
  
“Hey Dolph,” Bellatrix greeted.  
  
“Ah, Bella,” Rodolphus replied. “Good morning. Making your rounds?”  
  
“Same as always,” shrugged Bellatrix. “Got an hour to kill until arts and crafts. You know what Dr. Dolohov says: _'creativity improves wellbeing'_ or some shite like that.”  
  
“Whatever happened to that mosaic you were making?” Rodolphus asked.  
  
“Started arranging the pot shards to make dachshund,” Bellatrix shrugged. “But I changed my mind and turned it into a willy instead. And now that bitch Hooch won't display it in the communal dining hall.”  
  
“Hah,” Rodolphus laughed. “Just don't fly into a rage over something like that.”  
  
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “I apologised to you for that. And I don't do that to just anyone, Dolph! Just have some courtesy please and don't remind me of it all the time.”  
  
“It took three people to wrestle you to the ground, Bella,” laughed Rodolphus. “You are goddamn frightening when you go off. Anyway, what's your next project at Arts and Crafts?”  
  
Bellatrix thought a moment. “I think I'm going to make an uzi and go to town on some of the more annoying elements of staff.”  
  
“Ah,” said Rodolphus. “Just do me a favour and do it before dinner time. People shit themselves less if they haven't eaten.”  
  
“Saw the bus come in,” said Bellatrix. “Fresh meat?”  
  
“It's Friday,” Rodolphus shrugged. Of course, she knew quite well that that was the day new inmates usually arrived.  
  
Bellatrix grinned. “Any cuties?”  
  
Rodolphus sighed. “Bella, you know as well as I that patients aren't supposed to have 'relations'.”  
  
“Pffft,” Bellatrix snorted. “Everyone's fucking everyone in there, you know that as well as I do.”  
  
“You sure? Never stick your dick in crazy,” said Rodolphus. “That's a good rule of thumb.”  
  
Bellatrix let out a brief cackle. “Joke's on you, Dolph. I don't have a dick. So I'll ask again. Any cuties?”  
  
Rodolphus rolled his eyes. “I forgot I was talking to the woman who has more notches than bedpost. Well, looking at the list, we got the usual rich-kid reprobates coming in for their court-mandated stay for the most part.”  
  
“Ugh. Pass.”  
  
“One girl did jump out though,” said Rodolphus as he flipped through the papers on his clipboard. “Twenty-two years old, daughter of two dentists. Anxiety issues and survivor's guilt. They have her up at processing right now. Seems to be your type: brunette, smart, dedicated.”  
  
“Hm, sounds interesting,” Bellatrix bit her lip. “Not to mention dealing with crippling mental issues, otherwise she wouldn’t be here.”  
  
Rodolphus snorted. “You're the only person I know who picks up birds at the mental ward.”  
  
“Jealous?” Bellatrix winked.  
  
“Certainly not!”  
  
“Hm,” said Bellatrix. “Crazy Trelawney from Room 12 went home two days ago. You wouldn’t be putting that girl in that room, now would you?”  
  
“You mean the room conveniently located opposite to yours?”  
  
“Bingo,” said Bellatrix. “I’d rather have her than some noisy teenage twat shouting all night. Seriously, fuck millennials.”  
  
“Well, I suppose I _could_ swap some numbers around.”  
  
“Ta very much,” Bellatrix winked.  
  
Bellatrix took her leave and left to join the only annoying thing about this place: group sessions. For an hour, she’d be stuck sat on an uncomfortable plastic fold-out chair in a semi-circle with a bunch of other loonies while they told their stories. And really, how much more material could they pick up in his place? So, they just repeated the same inane drivel day after day after day after day. Bellatrix mind drifted to other things as she sat cross-legged and cross-armed, sometimes inspecting her nails while the wall clock seemed to be turning backwards in time.  
  
Therapist Hooch addressed her last, as usual, near the end of the session. “Do you have something to share, Bellatrix?” asked Hooch.  
  
“Aside from the fact that you're all a bunch of sad wankers for ever wanting to leave this place? No,” Bellatrix shrugged.  
  
“Charming as usual,” Hooch sighed.  
  
Bellatrix smirked. “You know, the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. So either stop fucking trying or take your rightful place among the rest of us nutters.”  
  
Thankfully, the rest of the day was spent in relative calm. It was a pleasant day outside and she spent some time away from the others simply reading some Lord of the Rings on a bench, a favourite of hers which she had been re-reading. Dinner was passable. Most of the evening she spent watching The Guns of Navarone with Mad-Eye Moody, a Falklands veteran who’d experienced a few too many shell shocks.  
  
Time for lights out afterwards, and a bit more Lord of the Rings in bed before falling asleep.  
  
Yes.  
  
Why the fuck would anyone even want to leave this paradise on Earth?  
  


* * *

  
Bellatrix spotted the new girl some two days later. This wasn’t strange in itself, as ‘processing’ basically meant some basic preliminary psychological tests and one or two days of observation before being let into the general population. Bellatrix was actually in the rec room engrossed in the battle of Helm’s Deep when she spotted Dolph walking through the hall alongside a slender brown-haired girl. The girl was dressed in all white as everyone here was, with the only aberrant colour being the Azkaban logo on her back in dark green. The girl was carrying a small box with personal belongings.  
  
What was most striking about the girl was that she constantly held her head down, giving a forlorn impression. Yes, she was indeed a cutie, but she wore her guilt on her shoulders.  
  
Bellatrix spent some time observing her, promising to return to Theoden’s inevitable victory later today. She watched from her own room under the guise of resting on her bed, but purposefully left the door open. The girl was unpacking her box and fished out a few photographs to hang in the suicide-proof glass-less picture frames mounted on the wall. Of note was a ratty old teddy bear which looked to be decades old, which was reverently placed on her bed.  
  
When the girl left her room, so did Bellatrix. The girl, however, stopped at the rec-room, stared for a moment and apparently changed her mind. The girl turned on her heels and headed back to her room. While passing her, Bellatrix scratched her back of her head in hopes of being noticed, but the girl was so lost in thought that she barely noticed anything.  
  
This would be a tough nut to crack.  
  
But Bellatrix had seduced women who’d been far more gone than this little cutie.  
  
To her delight, she found out that the girl was actually in her group session that day. That wasn’t planned, but it was certainly fortuitous. At the very least, her session would be less boring.  
  
“People,” started Hooch. “We have a new friend with us today. This is Hermione Granger. Let’s all give her a warm welcome, shall we?”  
  
Like a chorus of dribbling idiots… not so much an exaggeration, but rather a statement of fact… the group droned out a monotone ‘Hi, Hermione!’ while Bellatrix rather overtly rolled her eyes. It was a pretty enough name, though.  
  
“Thank you. Would you like to begin, Hermione?”  
  
The girl very shyly shook her head ‘no’.  
  
“That’s fine,” said Hooch. “You may go last. Do not feel pressured to share anything if you don’t feel ready for it yet.”  
  
The girl nodded gratefully while Hooch got the rest of the peanut gallery to work through their same old nonsense again. At least she had a lovely girl to observe: beautiful, yes, but someone who was very much messed up upstairs. She actually hoped the girl would tell her story today.  
  
“Bellatrix? Would you like to…”  
  
“Fuck no. Jog on!”  
  
“Fine,” Hooch sighed, turning back to Hermione. “Hermione? Do you feel comfortable sharing?”  
  
Hermione looked up, tears in her eyes. She choked up a bit before slowly starting to speak. “I… I killed my best friends,” Hermione stammered. “Harry, Ron and me… we grew up together. We were thick as thieves, did everything together. It happened when… after… we celebrated the end of uni. I was driving them home. We were chatting. Everything was fine and then… lights headed towards me. I remember being thrown around. Everything hurt. Three people stepped into that car. Only one came out. I can’t stop thinking about them. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m always thinking, always wondering… why _them_? Why them and not _me_?”  
  
Bellatrix listened carefully and cocked her head sideway. Was this kid for real?  
  
“Bollocks!” Bellatrix exclaimed, causing the girl to start. Hooch almost dropped her clipboard in surprise: for as long as she had been there, the only words Bellatrix had ever spoken in a group session had been a variation of ‘fuck off’. In fact, she was so startled by the fact that Bellatrix was speaking in a group session that she didn’t actually pay attention to the words she was actually speaking.  
  
“Were you speeding?” Bellatrix asked while crossing her arms.  
  
“N-no.”  
  
“Were you drunk?”  
  
“N-no. The lorry-driver was…”  
  
“Were you on the wrong side of the road?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“One thing I've learned, kid: shit happens,” Bellatrix snorted. “You can do everything right and still get fucked up the arse by circumstance.”  
  
“B-but,” Hermione muttered, her hands starting to tremble now. Some of the nutters were giggling because ‘Bella was saying naughty things again’, but she ignored them.  
  
“You shouldn't blame yourself for things that are out of your control,” Bellatrix pressed.  
  
Hermione swallowed hard. “But….”  
  
“I bet everyone has been coddling you. I’ll come out and say it. Stop being a fucking moron,” said Bellatrix. Maybe she’d just ruined her chances with Hermione, but Bellatrix had enough integrity to at least tell the girl the truth. When the session was over, Bellatrix gladly stormed out of the place without giving the girl so much of a glance. It was getting a mite stuffy in there.  
  


* * *

  
On lovely days such as these, Bellatrix liked to spend her afternoons outside. The temperature was just right and, well, she liked to smoke. A lot. In fact, it was one of her few vices from her old days she had still held on to. She leaned against the wall near the entrance of the rec-room, lit fag in hand.  
  
From the corner of her eye, she spotted Hermione staring her at from a distance, trying to pretend to be focused on whatever book she was reading whenever Bellatrix raised her head. She had caught Hermione staring at her during lunch as well.  
  
Apparently, the young minx found her courage and put down her book, finally taking the plunge and sauntered towards her at a slower than normal place.  
  
Well, sometimes the prey comes to the predator willingly.  
  
Bellatrix took after drag from her cigarette as Hermione stood next to her, trying to act nonchalant, emulating her by leaning against the wall as well.  
  
“Hi,” the girl greeted with a shaky voice.  
  
“Yes?” Bellatrix asked before blowing a load of smoke into the air.  
  
“Uhm, you didn’t tell your story.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“During the group session. You didn’t tell your story.”  
  
Bellatrix shrugged. “I never do. Besides, everybody knows already.”  
  
“I don’t,” Hermione replied. “Though your unusual name does ring a bell.”  
  
Bellatrix snorted. “Has my fame faded that much? Well, you are young and it’s been a while since I’ve been on the magazine covers. I am Bellatrix Black, hottest thing to hit the catwalks since Cindy Crawford. Flew all over the world, saw every big city, had every fashion-related company crawling over each other to endorse their lines of make-up, earned 50k a shoot and I did so, so many of them for years. Until I decided to go for the full-on heroin-chic look. The best way to actually achieve the heroin-chic look is to actually do lots and lots and lots of heroin, as well as a myriad of other fine narcotics.”  
  
“I see,” said Hermione. She didn’t seem to be in awe of her past or fearsome reputation, which made Bellatrix all the more fascinated with this girl.  
  
“Anyway, you probably shouldn’t be near me,” Bellatrix shrugged.  
  
“Why not?” asked Hermione.  
  
Bellatrix snorted. “Take your pick. According to my file, I am violent and unpredictable. I suffer from a multitude of personality disorders and have a penchant for obsessive behaviour. All the drugs I did broke something in my brain, my file claims.”  
  
“And what do you think?” asked Hermione.  
  
Bellatrix chuckled. “Me? I was never quite normal. The modelling and the drugs just exacerbated what was already there.”  
  
Hermione motioned to the pack of cigarettes sticking out of her pocket. “Uhm, hey. Could I have one of those? I’m a recent smoker, I’m not sure where to get them here and I am desperate for a fag.”  
  
“There’s a small shop you can put in orders,” Bellatrix said, giving her a cigarette and holding out a light for her. “I’ll show you later. Takes a few days for your orders to show up. Oh, and don’t forget that only those who earned the privilege to have lighters are allowed them. They’re too afraid some of the inmates might set their beds on fire. So half the ward’s smokers come to me light their ciggies.”  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Hermione while eagerly taking a drag.  
  
“Shouldn’t smoke. It’s a bad habit,” Bellatrix muttered.  
  
Hermione shrugged before taking another drag. “It’s okay, I have more of those.”  
  
Hm. Interesting.  
  
“You shouldn’t be here,” shrugged Bellatrix.  
  
Hermione seemed stricken for a moment, before forcing herself to calm down. “You said that before. During the group session.”  
  
“And I meant it. Your hell is of your own making.”  
  
“Shouldn’t Azkaban help me with that?”  
  
Bellatrix snorted through her nose. “Pfft, no! Have you seen some of the nuts in here? They throw you in with violent people and idiots who think they’re invisible. You’re not here to be cured, you’re here to be tucked away from the rest of the world so nobody has to feel bad about witnessing your crippling grief. You’re not insane. You’re just upset.”  
  
Hermione bristled. “I have every right to be upset! I grew up with Ron and Harry. And now they’re gone. I burst into tears randomly. I can’t sleep without the help of pills! That’s not normal!”  
  
“Ah, sleeping pills,” Bellatrix chuckled. “Did those too for a bit. Not as much fun as LSD, but will do when you’re in a pinch and you have nothing else.”  
  
“Don’t you take anything seriously?” Hermione asked.  
  
“I do,” Bellatrix shrugged. “Just not often.”  
  
Hermione looked far off into the distance. “Do you… really think… I wasn’t responsible… for…”  
  
“If they were really your friends, they wouldn’t want you to ruin your life because of guilt over them,” said Bellatrix.  
  
Hermione gave that some thought and gave her a weak smile before taking another draw. “I… I’d like to think so,” she whispered. “Say. I have a therapy session starting in a few minutes, but… could we chat again later? I think I’d really like that.”  
  
Bellatrix chuckled. “Sure,” she said. “I shouldn’t be hard to find. Not many places to go, after all. Besides, I’m the one with the fags and lighter.”  
  
The girl smiled at her briefly before putting out her cigarette in the ashtray and walked inside, looking over her shoulder at her one more time before she was out of sight. Bellatrix allowed herself a quiet chuckle while, from a few meters away, Rodolphus appeared to stand next to her.  
  
“Been listening in, Dolph?” she asked.  
  
“It’s my job to look out for Azkaban’s patients, Bella,” he said. “And spot potential trouble.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Couldn’t help noticing you were chatting up our newest inmate,” he smirked. The stocky orderly looked to be very pleased with herself.  
  
“Oh, I know you have made bets with the other orderlies,” Bellatrix laughed briefly, making it sound much like a cackle. “But your money is safe. I’ll be fucking that girl before the week is out.”  
  
“Charmingly romantic as ever, Bella,” he laughed.  
  
“What can I say,” Bellatrix smirked while tossing her cigarette into the ashtray with a nice parabolic trajectory. “She’s such easy prey.”

* * *

  
Visiting hours was one of the few things from the outside world Bellatrix was actively looking forward to. Her sisters often visited, sometimes with their children in tow. This week, her younger sister by two years Andromeda had stopped by.  
  
Here in this well-lit room, Andie and Bellatrix sat opposite to each other. Unlike her, Andie was a hard-working middle-class woman who lived in a lovely Edwardian family home in Guildford. With her tidy haircut, her knee-high skirt, boots and snazzy coat, she made the impression of a proverbial Karen, but her behaviour was anything but. Bellatrix mainly leaned back while Andie reached over to hold her hand.  
  
“Nymphadora couldn’t make it today,” said Andie. “She graduated from the College of Policing with flying colours.”  
  
“Ah, good for her,” said Bellatrix.  
  
“Don’t tell her I said this, but I’m happy that she’s being assigned to Ewhurst,” Andie muttered.  
  
“Ewhurst?” Bellatrix laughed. “Countryside plod, then? Didn’t she want to join the Metropolitan?”  
  
“Where all the action is,” Andie sighed. “And all the chances of being shot. Thing is, Ewhurst needed new blood more than the Mets did, thank god. It’s hard to turn down the low-rent cottage they’re offering her there. Anyway, she’ll probably tell you all about it herself next week.”  
  
“Hm,” Bellatrix muttered. “Glad you came for a visit.”  
  
Andie gave her a hard look. “Why don’t you focus on getting out of this hellhole? Everybody misses you.”  
  
Bellatrix snorted. “Well, they shouldn’t. I’m fine here. Where you see a hellhole, I see a tranquil paradise. Besides, you know I’m not right in the head.”  
  
“That’s not true, Bella.”  
  
“Heh,” Bellatrix snorted. “I remember last time I was out, staying at your house no less. Was it really warranted for me to smash your neighbour’s face in for leering at Nymphadora?”  
  
Andromeda narrowed her eyes. “In my opinion, definitely. He’d been leering at Nymphadora since she was five. Violence was absolutely warranted. Thankfully, we’ve gotten new neighbours last year.”  
  
Bellatrix snorted. “If you ask me, you should have picked a better name for her. Honestly, Nymphadora?” she snorted. “That name alone will bring all the pedos out of hiding.”  
  
Andie brought a picture of Nymphadora’s graduation: her niece looked to be real proud clad in her black uniform with the silver buttons and the shield pinned to her breast.  
  
“How’s Cissy doing? Still complaining about her useless husband and his peacocks?” Bellatrix chuckled.  
  
Andie rolled her eyes. “The peacocks are continuous bone of contention in that household. Cissy swears if she gets pecked one more time, the offending birds will be eaten come Christmas.”  
  
“That son is going to end up just like him, mark my words,” muttered Bellatrix. “God, I could use a smoke right now.”  
  
“Two packs a day?” Andie raised an eyebrow.  
  
Bellatrix snorted. “Hey, it’s down from three! I did what you asked.”  
  
She and her sister chatted a bit more about mundane things until visiting hours were over and the clinic’s routine started again as usual. Tonight would be interesting, as Mad-Eye Moody had managed to procure Band of Brothers and a bunch of the patients would be watching it along with him, including her. After being let back into the population, she passed her own room and couldn’t help but hear some quiet sobbing from room 12… Hermione’s room opposite to hers. She popped her head in and found Hermione lain on her bed curled up into a ball while hugging that ratty old teddy bear against her chest.  
  
Bellatrix watched her for a moment after rolling her eyes, torn between walking right on and going inside. Quite reluctantly, she stepped inside. After grabbing a chair and sliding it towards the bed, her hand hovered over Hermione’s shoulder until she gently touched it.  
  
Hermione’s skin was soft. Warm.  
  
“Hey,” she said, trying to hide her discomfort. “You alright?”  
  
“Oh,” Hermione sniffed. “Just… just a bad moment.”  
  
Bellatrix was not prepared for what happened next. The girl shot up and wrapped her arms around her, pressing her head tightly against her chest. The curly-haired woman grit her teeth and seized up, letting her arms float by her sides for a moment while the girl sobbed in her arms. Slowly, ever so slowly, Bellatrix folded her arms around her.  
  
Her body was soft and warm. Hermione’s lovely brown hair was as fine as spun silk. Bellatrix stroked it gently, allowing herself the indulgence.  
  
“I don’t want to be here…” Hermione sobbed.  
  
“I could have told you that,” Bellatrix muttered.  
  
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”  
  
“You get used to it.”  
  
Bellatrix held her for a while longer until the sobs stopped. Eventually, Hermione broke the embrace, something which Bellatrix found oddly disappointing. Hermione gave her a warm smile, wiping her hands over her tear-streaked face. “Thanks for… helping.”  
  
“Hm,” said Bellatrix, reaching over to brush a few locks of hair from Hermione’s face. “It’s fine. Look, it seems like you could use a distraction. Hm, we’ll be watching Band of Brothers in the rec-room tonight. Why don’t you join us?”  
  
Hermione gave her an odd smile. “My, my, Bellatrix, are you asking me out on a date?”  
  
“What?!” Bellatrix exclaimed, quickly looking away. “No! It’s simply…”  
  
“I’d love to,” Hermione quickly interrupted, giving Bellatrix a look which made the curly-haired madwoman wonder who exactly the prey was here.  
  


* * *

  
As it turned out, watching Band of Brothers together pretty much _had_ become a date. In fact, Hermione had little to no regard for the actual episodes but rather had held Bellatrix’ hand during the viewing and was mostly looking at her.  
  
It had made Bellatrix decidedly uncomfortable. At first.  
  
The next few days she and Hermione had spent a lot of time together, starting from lunch and ending in the evenings when they said their goodbyes and headed into their respective rooms.  
  
In the garden outside, Hermione had impressed Bellatrix with her knowledge of Tolkien’s works. They chatted over cigarettes outside and even spent time together running side by side on the exercise belts. To her delight, Bellatrix was actually in far better shape than the much younger girl.  
  
The only downside so far was that Hermione insisted on bringing that smelly, ratty old teddy bear everywhere with her. She supposed she understood: the bear was a well-loved and old childhood toy and probably reminded the young woman of better times.  
  
Life continued on at Azkaban and once again Bellatrix found herself in a group session. This time, however, Bellatrix was actually paying attention. When it was Hermione’s turn to speak, she was rather animatedly telling about her day, about Bellatrix and how she was doing much better. Hooch, for her part was rather surprised with this turn of events.  
  
“Bellatrix?” asked Hooch. “Is there something you’d like to add?”  
  
“What?” Bellatrix shrugged. “So I enjoy spending time with a pretty young thing. Sue me.”  
  
She didn’t miss Hermione’s giggle. No, not at all.  
  
Hermione seemed to have brought that infernal bear of hers along again, having it sat in her lap while she’d been speaking. Unfortunately, Gilderoy Lockheart was also in the room and had taken a fascination with the bear. When it was time to leave the session and Bellatrix and Hermione had wanted to go outside for their midday smoke break, Gilderoy snatched the bear from her lap and started holding it out of her reach.  
  
“Careful!” Hermione demanded. “He’s old and might rip!”  
  
“Beary-bear!” sing-singed Gilderoy. “Berry bear? Bear-berry! BEAR!”  
  
Hermione reached for her beloved bear again, only for Lockheart to playfully keep it out of her reach. Hermione was becoming more desperate as Lockheart started to fiddle with his arms.  
  
It was funny, really. Though it came out of nowhere, Bellatrix still knew that an outburst was coming. Red flashed in front of her eyes and, in that moment, Lockheart represented everything wrong in the world, nay, this universe. And he had gained the undivided attention of her baleful ire. Bellatrix picked up her folding chair and slammed it into the ground for good measure. “GIVE HERMIONE BACK HER BEAR, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT WEARING AN UGLY SKIN-SUIT!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. “YOU FUCKING USELESS LOON! YOU’RE NOT INVISIBLE, YOU’RE NOT DARTH VADER, YOU’RE JUST SOME USELESS WANKER WITH A BROKEN MIND JUST LIKE THE REST OF US!”  
  
Filled with rage, Bellatrix lifted the chair over her head and was about to smash it over Lockheart’s head repeatedly before Hermione rushed forward, gently laying her hands on her collarbones. “Hey,” she spoke softly. “It’s okay…. It’s okay. Look at him.”  
  
Hermione turned her head to Lockheart who was absolutely terrified of her. “See? You’ve made your point.”  
  
Lockheart rather sheepishly handed Hermione back her bear and quickly shuffled out the door. Bellatrix, however, her body still trembling, still needed an outlet for her rage. With a grunt, she threw the chair into the room, where it collided against the window and crashed to the ground. Hermione, bear in one hand and her other hand still on Bellatrix’ shoulder, smiled at her.  
  
It didn’t take long for Bellatrix to realise that Hooch had her hand on the panic bottom. Dolph was there scant five seconds later, taking in the room and quickly concluded what had happened.  
  
“Bella…” he started.  
  
“I never touched anyone!” Bellatrix protested. “I’m fine now!”  
  
Dolph pointed at the fallen chair, now broken, and a large crack in the tempered safety glass of the group session room. “Sorry, Bella. The rules are the rules. Violent outbursts mean…”  
  
“… twenty-four hours in the hole,” Bellatrix sighed with resignation.  
  
“Hands.”  
  
“Oh, come on!”  
  
“Hands, Bella,” Dolph pressed. Though they both considered each other a friend, Dolph was unrelenting. Bellatrix sighed and turned around, folding her wrists together behind her back. She winced when Dolph applied the zip-tie handcuffs and started leading her out of the room by placing a hand on her shoulder. Together, they walked out of the common area to the restricted zones.  
  
“Girl has an effect on you,” said Dolph. “Usually takes half an hour for you to calm down. And you would have taken a swing for me at this point. Didn’t even have to wrestle you to the ground.”  
  
“I apologised for any and all those times, Dolph.”  
  
“I know,” he said. “You’re not a bad sort, Bella. You just think you are.”  
  
“You a shrink now, Dolph?”  
  
Solitary was a single five-by-five meter room padded on all surfaces and stark white. No furniture, but it was soft enough to sleep comfortably, at least. “Here you go,” said Dolph after leading her inside. “Your usual hotel room. Not as fancy as the Ritz or the Hiltons you used to stay at, but we’d better not leave you with a fully stocked mini-bar, hm?”  
  
“Smart-arse,” Bellatrix chuckled in spite of herself while being released of her bonds.  
  
“Try to get some rest. Remember, press the big red button when you want to do some toiletries, but no prank calls. I’ll bring you some food and drink around dinner time,” said Dolph. “Otherwise, see you tomorrow.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Bellatrix sighed when the door fell into the lock behind her. She lay down on the ground for a moment and did a few sit-ups and push-ups. When she became bored of that, she settled on her side and figured she might as well pass the time sleeping. She was annoyed that she would miss an episode or two of Band of Brothers… not to mention some handholding with Hermione.  
  
But the worst of the twenty-four hour stay in confinement would be the nicotine withdrawal. She’d already had a hankering for some cancer-sticks after that group session and it was about to get a lot worse. So, she pressed her back against the soft padding and put her head down. Slumber took her. And when she opened her eyes to the sound of someone banging on the door, she grumbled and looked at the barred window only to find the sun still relatively high in the sky.  
  
“Hm, feeding time already?” asked Bellatrix with a groggy voice.  
  
“Bellatrix?” sounded from beyond the bars in the door.  
  
“Hermione?” Bellatrix asked and stood up. Indeed, on the other side of the door stood the girl. “What are you doing here? I’m in solitary confinement. I don’t think you grasp the concept.”  
  
Hermione chuckled. “Don’t worry. Mister Lestrange let me in here for a moment. I asked nicely and he let me into the restricted zone for a bit. But I only have a few minutes, so I’ll make this quick. I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”  
  
“HAH!” Bellatrix laughed. “I should be thanking you. If I’d actually smashed that chair over Lockheart’s ugly bum-face, I’d be in here for a week. As it stands, it’s just a day and I still get to keep my lighter privileges.”  
  
“All the same,” said Hermione. “I wanted to say thanks… and see you again.”  
  
Bellatrix reached her fingers through the bars in the small slit of the door. There was barely enough reach, but she managed to brush some of Hermione’s silky soft brown hair. “You’re barmier than I am. Didn’t I tell you I was dangerous?”  
  
“Maybe I like dangerous,” smiled Hermione.  
  
“Eh,” shrugged Bellatrix. “I’ll be out tomorrow. Do me a favour, though.”  
  
“Anything.”  
  
“Just… tell me tomorrow what I missed on Band of Brothers, alright?”  
  
“Promise,” Hermione smiled.  
  
And just like that, Bellatrix was alone again. She spent the rest of her stint in solitary either working out, sleeping or, briefly, eating. She felt oddly relaxed when Dolph had let her out of the room and brought her back to the general area. But not relaxed enough to prevent herself from smoking half a pack of cigarettes one after the other while waiting for Hermione to finish her therapy session.  
  
At exactly the stroke of three in the afternoon, Hermione entered the garden area and immediately headed over to the table where Bellatrix was sat.  
  
To her surprise, Hermione was holding a ring-binder. Of course, she had asked Hermione to fill her in on the two episodes of Band of Brothers she had missed. What she hadn’t expected, however, were fifteen pages of notes, descriptions, snippets of dialogue and even speculations on motivation and characterisation. It all led to an animated discussion over plenty of cigarettes which took them almost three hours to get through.  
  
“Well,” said Bellatrix. “I don’t think I’ve missed a thing. This was more fun than watching it.”  
  
“Heh,” said Hermione. “I never could have these kinds of conversations with Ron and Harry. _‘Oh, Mione, you’re just reading too much into it. You’re getting obsessed again, Mione. Why are you spending all evenings online writing and discussing all those silly fan theories_ '. I’m sorry, but I really am convinced that Spongebob Squarepants’ friends are all representatives of the Seven Deadly Sins. It’s so obvious! Patrick is Sloth, Mr Krabs is Greed, Squidward is obviously Wrath…”  
  
“Hah,” Bellatrix laughed. “You’re a little bit nutty and I rather like that.”  
  
Hermione blushed briefly, looking away before smiling back at her. “Ron always teased me for… my taste for older women.”  
  
“Oh?” Bellatrix frowned. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”  
  
Hermione blushed again. “There’s just… a level of maturity I can never quite find in girls my own age.”  
  
Bellatrix let out a pig-like snort, rolling her yes. “Well, that’s me off your to-do list, then.”  
  
“Is it?” Hermione replied with a grin, to which Bellatrix only respond with a wink. “My last girlfriend was 42, an artist. Made beautiful things. Said I was her muse, and I was! For about two months. Had a thing for a 36 year old stockbroker. Absolute shark. Didn’t last. Oldest woman I dated was 51. Yoga teacher. Gorgeous hair. Surprisingly flexible for a woman her age.”  
  
Bellatrix frowned. “That’s three. You’re, what, twenty-one?”  
  
“Twenty-two.”  
  
“Not one for stable relationships, then.”  
  
“But I am!” Hermione pouted. “I want the whole stability, love, romance and white-picket fence thing, I really do!”  
  
“But?”  
  
“But… all of my girlfriends to date have only used me as a plaything,” Hermione sighed. “I want to be more than that.”  
  
Bellatrix snorted. “And you expect to find it at the mental ward?” she laughed. “I’ve changed my mind, you do belong here. You’re mad as a hatter.”  
  
Hermione rewarded her with a playful punch to the shoulder before asking her to light another cigarette. “I’m serious!” exclaimed Hermione before taking another drag.  
  
“Be honest,” Bellatrix smirked. “You just want to fuck a model for bragging rights. Well, ex-model. Though I still get some of the creepiest fanmail.”  
  
Hermione’s expression softened, light brown eyes gazing upon her lightly. Bellatrix looked over her shoulder: they were in a somewhat secluded spot and nobody was looking at them. Their faces hovered closer together as their necks craned forwards. Their lips touched, ever so slightly at first. Hermione closed her eyes before she did.  
  
Gods above, her lips tasted like sweet summer wine. The hand that lay on the back of her head pushed her forward. Bellatrix’ hunger won out and she parted Hermione’s lips with her tongue to explore the girl’s eager mouth. Their tongues wrestled as Hermione’s hunger was, impossibly, even greater than hers. This was an outlet for days of tension building up between them. When they broke their kiss, they pressed their foreheads together. God… god, this girl… this dreamy, beautiful girl… the desire in Hermione’s eyes set her loins on fire.  
  
A brief glance confirmed that nobody had caught them. Hermione was panting heavily and, with a smirk, Bellatrix was just willing to bet she was sopping wet at the moment. Bellatrix leaned in closely to whisper in her ear. “We’re having sex tonight,” she said, making the girl shudder as her breath hit her ear. “After lights out. I have a plan.”  
  
Hermione took a few deep breaths, a blush making way for a confident grin. “I can’t wait,” she husked.  
  


* * *

  
The last two episodes of Band of Brothers were fine enough, but Hermione had been downright giggly during the viewing. The ‘master-plan’ Bellatrix had, was put in motion the moment it was time for lights out. Hermione turned out to be quick and nimble, making a classing lump in her bed with a spare set of clothes and a pillow. Bellatrix lay on her own bed while doors were being closed by the orderlies. The moment there were no more sounds coming from the hallway, Hermione popped her head out from underneath Bellatrix’ bed. Though the room was dark, some artificial light from a lamppost outside her window did find itself in her room, illuminating it just enough to see each other in the dark.  
  
Before the curly-haired woman could react, Hermione had climbed on top of her. Her body was soft and warm. Lips crushed upon hers with an almost animal ferocity. Their kiss deepened, tongues met and wrestled for dominance. Really, what was there left to say? Hermione had simply been looking forward to this moment as much as she had.  
  
Hermione straddled her, smiling down upon her before lifting her Azkaban tunic over her head. Her bra followed swiftly, revealing the creamy skin and lovely breasts. Bellatrix chuckled lustfully, letting her hands roam over Hermione belly. It didn’t take long for the rest of their clothes to find their way to the floor.  
  
God, Bellatrix felt like a twenty-year old again when they pressed their bodies together, soft skin sliding over soft skin. To her delight, she found Hermione to certainly not be the fragile virgin she had expected her to be. In fact, the girl knew just how and where to touch a woman. Hermione’s fingertips run over the skin of her back in such a way that it made her shudder and swoon. The way Hermione’s lips found her breasts… and the way the tip of Hermione’s tongue twirled around her nipples almost made her eyes roll back into her skull.  
  
But Hermione was not in control here. Bellatrix had to make that clear. Though the single person bed held them both, it was a little cozy so finding a comfortable position was a bit tricky. With Hermione on her back and Bellatrix on her side, the curly-haired woman captured her lover’s lips while eager fingers plunged into Hermione’s wetness. The girl stiffened and choked out a moan of sheer pleasure when the experienced Bellatrix pumped at just the right speed and crooked at just the right depth.  
  
Bellatrix chuckled when Hermione was overcome with pleasure, quickly silencing her with a kiss.  
  
But Hermione wasn’t out for the count yet. Pushing Bellatrix to her back, Hermione kissed her way downward. From her neck, to her breasts to her belly to her own sopping wetness. Proving that that little tongue of hers wasn’t just to carry her sharp wit, Bellatrix had to reach over to bite the corner of her pillow to keep herself from shouting out. Lashes, strokes and long licks so artfully done with that nimble tongue of hers. Maddening. Just… maddening.  
  
Bellatrix was quite happy to have kept up a proper exercise pattern. Her abs were quite toned and she considered herself up to snuff with the younger woman. Thankfully, Hermione was suitably impressed.  
  
In fact, why should Bellatrix be the only one to enjoy herself? Hermione was confused when Bellatrix stopped her, but understood when a grinning Bellatrix made a hand-motion for her to turn around. So, both of them lay on their sides. Both of them used their tongues to pleasure the other. Both were unrelenting. Both shuddered when the climax hit them like an oncoming freight-train.  
  
The two woman lay cuddled underneath the blanket in content afterglow. Bellatrix reached over to stroke Hermione’s hair. “Well,” Bellatrix whispered in the darkness. “I can think of sixty-nine reasons we’re going to have to this again.”  
  
“Hah,” Hermione replied. “I bet it’s just the same reason repeated sixty-nine times.”  
  
“Oh, are you accusing me of being lazy? I… ow!” Bellatrix hissed when she felt something hard press against her back, apparently one of the eyes of Hermione’s bear. The curly-haired woman gave her a look. “You’ve brought your teddy to a clandestine sex romp?”   
  
Hermione shrugged. “Mister Bear likes to watch.”  
  
“Kinky.”  
  


* * *

  
As the days turned into weeks, the relationship between Hermione and Bellatrix only deepened. They ate together, chatted together, trained together, worked on projects in Arts and Crafts and discussed all myriad of things. Bellatrix, significantly enough, never had any more outbursts.  
  
Hermione had become decidedly less sad and Bellatrix was actually opening up, sharing stories of her modelling days during the group sessions or fun tales from her childhood spent with her two sisters.  
  
The evenings were spent cuddling up watching whatever old Mad-Eye had managed to procure and every night was spent in each other’s arms.  
  
It had gotten to a point where Rodolphus had started warning them to be less loud.  
  
It was on one such nights that Bellatrix found herself sitting on the side of the bed naked, watching at the window of her room. There was a storm outside, the wind howling past the building. They had spend the majority of the day inside, leading to less smoking. Perhaps that’s why Bellatrix was feeling sad and cranky, though she doubted it. She glanced over to the sleeping girl. A girl who found sleep without pills these days. She reached over to stroke her hair, causing the girl to stretch and slowly wake up.  
  
Bellatrix turned her gaze to the window again while behind her, Hermione sat up. The curly-haired woman closed her eyes when she felt two arms wrap around her waist and soft lips pressing on her shoulder. “Can’t sleep?” Hermione asked.  
  
Bellatrix swallowed hard. “I’ll hurt you.”  
  
Hermione’s grip around her waist tightened. “You won’t.”  
  
“I hurt everyone.”  
  
“That’s why you’re in here. You don’t want to be here. Not really. You just want to protect others from you.”  
  
Bellatrix snorted through her nose. “Who died and made you a psychotherapist?”  
  
“Don’t tell me it’s not true,” said Hermione. “You care deeply about the people you love.”  
  
Bellatrix shook her head. “I don’t give a shit about people.”  
  
Hermione was adamant. “You _do_ give a shit about some people. One tiny fragment of humanity who mean the world to you. And you’re terrified of hurting them and only them specifically.”  
  
Bellatrix grit her teeth, angry at the world and angry at herself. “My sisters put up with a lot. I put them through hell when I was younger. I was a violent junkie. It’s a miracle I didn’t end up with HIV or some exotic form of hepatitis from all the casual sex and needle sharing I did. They should have cut me off. They didn’t, to their own detriment.”  
  
Hermione never let go of her. “That’s just the pressures of the modelling world.”  
  
“Pft, no,” Bellatrix shook her head. “It’s just me. The modelling just made worse what was already there. I would have ended up exactly the same if my life would have been different! I was broken from the day I was born, Hermione! At least now I’m just violent instead of a violent junkie.”  
  
“See? Progress.”  
  
Bellatrix had had enough. She tore Hermione arms from her, got off the bed and started pacing angrily through the room. “You just need someone to take care of to ease your own guilt!” she spat. “I’m your outlet!”  
  
Hermione thought a moment. “Maybe. Helping someone is a redemption of a sort.”  
  
Bellatrix laughed. “Look at us. Two broken women finding comfort through fucking each other’s brains out.”  
  
Hermione looked at her intently, big brown eyes staring into the darkness. “Will you be my girlfriend?” she asked.  
  
Upon hearing the question, Bellatrix stopped pacing and gave her an incredulous look. “Will you be my girlfriend?” she repeated with a mocking tone. “How old are you? _Twelve_?”   
  
Hermione laughed. “Will you, though?”  
  
Bellatrix shrugged. “You’re not like any other girl I’ve fucked, I’ll give you that.”  
  
“My, my, are you trying to drive me away? You won’t use me as a plaything. I know that for a fact.”  
  
“You seem sure of yourself.”  
  
“Those few people you love? You love them so much that you lock yourself away from them,” Hermione said. Silence fell between them, only the storm outside and the sound of their own breathing filling the room.  
  
“What makes you think I love _you_!” shouted Bellatrix, angrily. “What makes you think I’m not just using you for some torrid sex? What makes you think I’m not going to drop you like a fucking stone the moment you start to bore me?”  
  
Hermione merely whispered. “Because you’re trying to drive me away right now.”  
  
Tears were streaking over Bellatrix’ cheek. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” she shouted.  
  
Hermione gave her a sad smile. “Bella,” she whispered. “You don’t belong in here.”  
  
Upon hearing those words, Bellatrix sank to the ground and transformed into a sobbing mess. Hermione left the bed and was upon her. Her embrace was very much welcomed.  
  
“If I don’t belong in here,” Bellatrix sobbed. “And I don’t belong out there, where _do_ I belong?!”  
  
Hermione wiped away her tears and looked her in the eye, a serious expression. And, she asked the same question, but this time with conviction, caring and love. “Will you be my girlfriend?”  
  
Bellatrix merely let Hermione hold her tightly while she wept.

* * *

  
“Well, it’s definitely odd seeing you from that side of the glass,” spoke Rodolphus through a crackling speaker in a glass wall. After wearing the Azkaban garb for so long, wearing ‘regular’ clothes just seemed odd. Bellatrix was clad in jeans, boots and a leather jacket over a black T-shirt and the whole thing just felt… off.  
  
Bellatrix had made arrangements to check herself out, surprisingly most of the staff. But not Rodolphus or Hermione.  
  
Some people had come to see her off. Hermione and Rodolphus, of course, but also the grim-faced Mad-Eye Moody. Outside, her sister would be waiting to… to take her home.  
  
Bellatrix would be lying if this whole thing wasn’t extremely frightening. She had to remind herself that it was for a good cause. On the other side of the glass, Hermione was smiling at her, her ratty old bear still held in her arms.  
  
“Come with me,” Bellatrix told her girlfriend.  
  
Hermione shook her head. “Not yet,” said she. “I still have work to do. So do you. You have to learn to adjust outside. I still have to deal with some of my lingering issues. But, look at it this way, we’ll both have something to work towards. To look forward to.”  
  
“I’ll come visit. Often,” Bellatrix winked.  
  
Hermione smirked. “Just do me a favour and promise me you won’t come back as a permanent resident.”  
  
“And we’re going to go out and grab a pint or two at the pub when you’re feeling up to it,” said Rodolphus.  
  
“Deal,” said Bellatrix. “Though it’ll probably be a pint of Pepsi for me, thanks.”  
  
Mad-eye Moody said nothing. Instead, he merely stood at attention and gave her a stern, military salute. Coming from him, that was indeed a grand gesture. Bellatrix mimicked his stance and returned the salute.  
  
That only left Hermione. Bellatrix kissed two fingers and placed them on the glass. Hermione did the same. “I love you,” Bellatrix whispered.  
  
“I love you too,” smiled Hermione.  
  
The next thing she knew, Bellatrix was sat in the passenger seat of Andie’s Range Rover. It was a car far too big for a woman Andie’s size. Still, Bellatrix watched out the window to see the rolling hills of the English countryside pass her by. Hills she hadn’t seen for so long.  
  
It was still strange being out and it would be strange to be among other people again. Azkaban wouldn’t be out of her life just yet, though: there’d be a period of tight supervision and guidance. Andie had agreed to be her legal guardian and Bellatrix would live with her the first few months. Of course, the last time she had barely lasted three weeks until she had relapsed. She was certain that she’d be watched like a hawk.  
  
Bellatrix stared out of the car window, he eyes falling upon the many nice houses dotting the landscape. This would be a nice place to live. Good view. A lot of green. Secluded.  
  
Though Bellatrix had spent a lot of her money made from modelling on drugs, alcohol and wild parties, she had led an otherwise frugal life. Naturally, an extended stay at a private clinic like Azkaban had taken a financial toll, but she still had tens of millions in the bank left untouched. Andie, as her legal guardian, would control her finances for a bit longer, but she was certain to like the plan she had.  
  
How nice would it be to buy one of those lovely homes with lots of surrounding land in the countryside where she and Hermione could live in peace away from everyone else? Maybe get some animals to keep them company. They could live out their days in comfort. With each other. And maybe that white-picket fence Hermione wanted.  
  
“What are you smiling about, Bella?” asked Andie.  
  
“Hm?” Bellatrix asked. “Oh, nothing.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Andie chuckled. “That ‘nothing’ wouldn’t happened to be named ‘Hermione’?”  
  
Bellatrix sighed. “Hermione fucking Granger. Twenty-two years of sheer determination.”  
  
“Twenty-two?!” Andie laughed. “Oh, you dirty old lady cradle-robber. That’s younger than Nymphadora!”  
  
“Just promise me we’ll go visit her every week,” Bellatrix all but pleaded.  
  
“Been a while, you know?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Seeing you smile.”   
  
Bellatrix sighed. “Moment I lose it, I’m going back.”  
  
Andie chuckled. “I don’t think you will lose it. Not this time. I think you want to make a good impression on your girl.”  
  
“I think…” said Bellatrix, looking out of the window while fantasizing about life with Hermione. “I think… this time things _will_ be different.”  
  
Though she had tried to adjust to life outside so many times before and had always failed, this time she truly believed it could be different.


End file.
